


Only lonely for you.

by devilscut



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Darkness Around Stiles's Heart, M/M, Pining, Post Season 3, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/pseuds/devilscut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 3 months since Derek and Cora left Beacon Hills after the confrontations between the Darach and the Alpha Pack.  The darkness that surrounds Stiles' heart has been threatening to overwhelm him, the only thing that is saving him is the stretched tether of communion that is between him and Derek.  Even so, he's gotten mad at the pack for the way they treated Derek, enough that he broke his hand.  </p><p>Today for some reason that connection is quivering and Stiles finds himself compelled to look back at the past 3 months and go on a pilgrimage around Beacon Hills to the places where he and Derek had started to form the bonds of friendship and maybe more (at least on Stiles' side).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only lonely for you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shannara810](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannara810/gifts).



> I have gifted this fic to Shannara810 who very kindly allowed me to use the werewolf aging concept you will read about in the following work. I really, really liked the idea - it's very different to what I'd read before - and hopefully you will too. So thanks Shannara, you keep me thinking outside the square and I love you for it. :D
> 
> This is a quick one-shot that I was compelled to write after hearing a song (isn't that always the case) which I have now mentally adopted as my internal theme music for Sterek.
> 
> The song is 'Only lonely' by the wonderfully talented Tina Arena. I have included the link to youtube for it, so please, please listen to it. It is magic - haunting and says everything about Stiles and Derek for me when they are apart.
> 
> Unbeta'ed - 'coz as ever that's just the way it is.

 [Only Lonely - Tina Arena](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8L8-JFc5-k)

 

Stiles lets his forehead rest against the cool pane of glass.  It’s soothing and he needs that so badly right now.  Wonders, how did he end up here?  Here in this place, at this moment in time, with a heart that feels sore and achy deep in his chest and a soul that’s wrapped in a darkness so bleak that wild crazy thoughts run through his head of how he can end the despair.

 

He breathes out an aching sigh.  Lets the warm, moist air from his lungs blow across the glass changing it from clear to opaque.  With one trembling finger he traces an ‘S’ then a plus sign followed by a ‘D’ in the condensation.  The moonlight bathes him through the large loft windows, highlights his writing with a tormenting glow, his breath hitches sharply as he wipes it away with a swipe of his shaking hand.

 

He’s standing by the huge windows of Derek’s loft looking out into the deep black night, shudders as he feels it call to the answering darkness inside him.  The full moon hangs fat and heavy in the sky. 

 

The key that Derek had given him burns a hole in his pocket, it’s a sign of the trust that had developed between them.  Derek was potentially making himself vulnerable and Stiles knows that he was the only other person aside from the Hales to have a key to their home.

 

That Derek owns the building gives Stiles hope that maybe one day he’ll see again a sleek coif of black hair, a stubbled jawline and mesmerizing eyes that he calls green but knows there is really no accurate description for their colour. 

 

Derek’s been gone from Beacon Hills for 3 months now and yet his face is seemingly burnt into Stiles’ retinas, can see the other man even when he closes his eyes and he knows that it’s a true image.  That he’s somehow accurately remembered every angle and plane of his face, every lash that frames those magnificent eyes and the shape of his lips on that wide beautifully stern mouth.

 

He and Cora left not long after the confrontation between the Darach and then with Deucalion.  They didn’t say goodbye.  He’s not sure what he would’ve done even if they had.  Probably embarrassed himself and them.

 

It was an instant awareness that Stiles never knew he possessed, that he could feel him physically leave.  Like a tether or a cord of communion between them was stretched so thin that it felt on the verge of violently snapping and Stiles didn’t know if he would or could survive that. 

 

Then he’d remembered that sensation of when he’d stretched the limited amount of mountain ash he’d had to surround an entire building.  Desperate, closing his eyes he’d pushed it out...pushed that sensation down that tether until he’d felt it absorb it and stretch.  He’d blacked out at the effort.

 

He knows that it’s only that tether, that link, that has kept him from sinking into the darkness and letting it possess him so that he wallows in it and becomes someone he wouldn’t recognise as himself.

 

Today that thin thread quivered as though it was a guitar string being plucked or strummed, he’d tried to push it to the back of his mind, to ignore it.  It left him feeling disturbed and restless, so much that he invoked the ‘code 1 alert’ with Scott which meant that his best friend had to cover for him until further notice with school, his Dad or whoever the fuck else asked.  He texted back to Scott ‘NQ’ -  no questions - when Scott sent ‘Why?’

 

How could he explain when he didn’t understand himself?  How can you tell someone that for all the times he’s hung out with Scott and the rest of the pack since Derek left that Stiles has felt apart from them. 

 

Alone in a crowd.  It’s such a cliché but he can’t describe it any better.  

 

Stiles is lonely, but not alone.  Stiles is only lonely for one person and he doesn’t know where he is.  Knows he’s still alive, their connection at least tells him that.

 

It probably didn’t help that his temper was like quicksilver these days.  It had exploded at one such hanging out session at Scott’s house, when Isaac had wondered aloud whether he was responsible for Derek leaving, not that he’d looked particularly guilty about it.  At Stiles’ puzzled look the ethereal blonde had revealed exactly what he’d said to the other wolf in the loft as they were all battling to save their missing and ill family members during those terrible dark days.   

 

Stiles had risen to his feet and put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder and the wolf had let him thinking it was a comforting gesture, before hauling back with his other hand, clenching a fist and punching the wolf hard in the face.  He managed to get another hit in before the rest of the stunned pack had cried out and dragged Stiles away from where the blonde wolf had sat cupping his nose, blood dripping into his palm while his lip puffed out purple red. 

 

Stiles thinks he may have broken a bone in his hand, it throbs fiercely, but it was so worth it.  He grins widely, can feel the pack shift nervously around him and there’s something in the darkness inside him that likes it.  Likes that they are afraid for him...afraid of him.

 

“What was that for?”  Isaac’s eyes flared with gold even though they brimmed over with tears of pain until his werewolf healing kicked in and started repairing the damage that Stiles’ fist had done.

 

“You jerk!  How could you say that to him after everything he did for you?”  Stiles growls the words at him as though he’s the wolf and not the other boy.

 

“What he did for me?  He was my Alpha and he kicked me out...remember.”  Isaac growls back just as harshly.

 

“He gave you a home and when he had an Alpha pack of killers knocking on his door he got you out, the only way he could  because he knew you wouldn’t leave any other way.  He was trying to protect you, you ass.”  Stiles shakes off the hands that hold him, knows that they let him do that, they could easily restrain him if they wanted to.

 

“He could’ve done it better.”  Lydia says, her eyes flickering around the group and Stiles can see a number of nods in agreement.

 

“Why?”  Stiles is blunt in his fury. 

 

“Well, he’s the Alpha...uhm...was the Alpha...the eldest, supposedly an adult and more mature than the rest of us.”  She huffs, flicking her strawberry blonde mane over her shoulder.

 

“You know nothing of what he is...what any of the born wolves are.”  Stiles looks at them all with disdain, starts to turn away when Scott grabs his arm.  Stiles looks down at Scott’s hand where it’s locked around his bicep and then back up to Scott’s face, it’s so reminiscent of Derek doing the same thing to him that he almost laughs aloud.  There must be something in his expression because Scott immediately lets go, holding his hand up in appeasement.

 

“What are you saying Stiles?”  This isn’t Scott asking, it’s the True Alpha.

 

Stiles hangs his head debating whether to tell the pack what he knows, his anger though is maybe greater than his good sense.  For far too long these teens have been using Derek as a scapegoat, their unrealistic expectations of him so great that he’d been weighed down by it.  Pulled down by their disappointment and bitter accusations.

 

“Derek isn’t the mature adult you think he is.” He says softly.

 

“Telling me.”  Huffs out Isaac, who immediately shuts up when Stiles simply looks at him, the wolf recognising danger when he sees it.

 

“I had a long conversation with Peter and Cora not so long ago and something Peter said stayed with me.  He said they were ‘not as young as we could’ve been but not as old as you might think’.  It got me thinking, such a strange thing to say.  So I researched and it wasn’t easy...had to go through a number of University Libraries and even got access to a private collection, but I found the answer.  Born wolves grow and age differently to humans, but not how you might think.”  He looks at them all, sees Lydia’s eyes widen thinks she might be the only one who is starting to get it. 

 

“Outwardly, Derek may look 24...25 but up here and in here.” Stiles points to his head and then lays a hand on his chest over his heart.  “He’s only 18...19 tops and Cora...well Isaac you’re lucky Derek didn’t take your head off when you made a move...she’s only about 12 or 13.”

 

The pack stirs not comprehending.  Until it suddenly hits them, little things they’ve noticed over time, particularly with Cora and her child-like impulsivity, her threats to punch those that annoy her and Derek’s almost pathological protectiveness towards her with regards to male interest in his ‘little’ sister. 

 

Even Derek’s all-consuming need to have a pack, a family makes more sense. 

 

“How...what?”  Scott’s face is drawn and white.

 

“It’s a defence mechanism, to protect the continuation of the species.  Nature protects her young where she can and this is ‘supernature’ we’re talking about here, the supernatural version.”  Stiles looks around to see if they’re all still with him.  “Werewolves were nearly hunted to the point of extinction in Europe, particularly France with the Argent family on their tails so ‘supernature’ found a way.  Evolution.”

 

“Werewolf evolution did in a couple of decades what it takes human evolution thousands of years to do, it adapted to survive.  Their young grew physically mature a lot quicker so they could defend themselves from an earlier age.  Psychologically though they didn’t keep up with their bodies.  It tends to level out when their bodies look about mid to late twenties and then they just look really well-preserved.  Look at Peter.”

 

“What are you saying?”  Allison struggles to get to her feet, one hand pressed to her stomach the other to her mouth.  She looks at Stiles in absolute horror.

 

“Physically he’s 24, but chronologically and psychologically he’s about 18.”  Stiles knows what she’s really asking.  “So when Derek looked physically 16 when the fire happened...he was actually only about 11 or 12.”  There's mixed groans of dismay and shouts from the pack, wanting...demanding to know more.

 

“No.  It’s not possible.  Public records show their birth dates and...and...”  Allison falters at his expression.  He’s not lying or exaggerating and it shows, she knows him well enough now to be able to read him.

 

“There’s a werewolf community out there Allison.  It wouldn’t surprise me if they regularly doctor records to show what they want.  All the Hale kids were home schooled up until their supposed 15th and 16th birthdays...I think that’s when they were probably more able to cope with going to a regular school and hanging out with technically older kids.” 

 

His heart aches when he thinks of Derek as a twelve year old trapped in the body of an older teen.  How confusing it must have been.  The mind of a child and the body of a nearly grown man.  It makes him ill to think of what he must’ve gone through with Paige at the Nematon.  Their romance of sweet innocent kisses destroyed by Peter.  He doesn’t have proof, but the way Peter spoke about it all makes a nerve under his eye twitch violently when he thinks about it.  He feels even worse when he thinks about Kate Argent.  No wonder Kate had drawn him into her web so easily.  What boy could resist the seductive charms of an attractive woman in her early twenties who claimed to love him?

 

“Kate she...Derek was only...”  Stiles nods grimly.  Allison runs to the bathroom and Stiles doesn’t need to have werewolf hearing to know that she’s throwing up.

 

“Why didn’t he say something?”  Scott asks distraught.  Stiles is pleased to see that beneath this new True Alpha persona that Scott’s been wearing, the Scott he’s known forever, the kind and caring one is still there.

 

“Are you kidding me?  Aside from the long terrible history of human/werewolf relations, Derek lost his whole family when he was really only about 11 or 12.  I think he just might have some trust issues don’t you?”  Stiles says scathingly.

 

“Derek wasn’t raised by his family to be an Alpha, he was a Beta like the rest of you and he was still a child in their eyes, so he knows some things, but not everything.  He doesn’t have all the answers.”  Stiles looks directly at Isaac as he says that and he sees the other boy’s shoulders hunch over and his face is pinched, eyes haunted with memory.

 

“Scott what would you have done if you were Derek and your kid sister, your only living relative, was dying in front of you and you didn’t know how to save her?”  Scott looks thoughtfully at Isaac for a very long time before answering.

 

“I don’t know.”  He admits and Isaac’s face pinches even tighter in disbelief.

 

“You wouldn’t have just waited around right?”  Isaac asks hesitantly.  He has a serious case of hero worship where his new Alpha is concerned.

 

“I really don’t know, but I do know that if it was my sister or my brother-"  He flicks an intent look at Stiles.  "-I wouldn’t leave her or him, no matter what.”  Scott answers honestly and Stiles is grateful for that at least.  Scott’s big brown eyes are apologetic, nearly black with sorrow and it irks Stiles that he couldn't have gotten over his childish resentment and distrust of Derek well before this. 

 

“No matter what you think Isaac, Derek acted like a True Alpha when he gave up his Alpha-hood for Cora.  He sacrificed for her, just as he has for all of you.  He did his best even though he didn’t have the experience.”  Stiles looks around the room meeting each of their sad and horrified gazes.

 

The pack is quiet and tentative around him as though afraid of raising his ire again, even Isaac is quiet for days after and can’t look Stiles in the eye.

 

Yawning, he catches his reflection in the glass at the movement and pulls a face at himself.  The hollowed cheeks and dark circles under his eyes make him look like one of the freaky-ass creatures that seem to have been drawn to Beacon Hills lately.  Makes him look not human. 

 

That’s what lack of sleep does to you.  ‘Cos without him there’s no sleeping.  It’s only a few hours, here and there that he’s able to get.  Knows that his Dad looks at him with worry in his eyes now and it’s not just because he knows everything, knows about the supernatural shitstorm that’s sweeping across his town. 

 

If he’s not kept awake at night thinking about Derek he’s dreaming about him when he does finally sleep.  Agonizing dreams where he’s hurt and calling for Stiles and...Stiles would give anything to take away his pain, his hurts, his fears.  He carries the world and accepts it willingly and Stiles wants to take away the weight that burdens Derek’s shoulders, it hurts Stiles to know he’s part of that burden along with the rest of the pack.

 

The deaths and injuries that their pack has sustained scar Derek internally.  If he carried them on the outside he would look infinitely worse than the Darach’s true scarred visage. 

 

When did his feelings for Derek change?  When did he start to care so much?  He doesn’t know, can’t pinpoint the moment when the other man became something more.  More than a frightening stranger, more than an ally, more than a friend.  Just knew he was in trouble when Derek occupied his mind nearly every other night, then it was every night and then during the day as well.

 

The feeling has been building.  That he is waiting for something.  Knows that he’s balancing on a knife edge between sanity and losing himself, maybe forever.  He’s so close to tipping over that it’s almost hard to breathe normally.  He could feel it from the moment he opened his eyes that morning, knowing he’d had about an hour and a half of restless sleep at the most. 

 

Lying in his bed he looked at his bedroom door and could all too easily see himself being grabbed and thrown against it.  The vision played over and over in his head, all too vividly he could feel the wood of the door at his back and the scorching heat of a werewolf body close to his as Derek had fisted his shirt and jacket, holding him in place.  His senses had been assaulted, overwhelmed by the beautiful man who smelled of cologne and whose breath puffed against Stiles’ mouth and nose as he spoke.  He smelled like apples.  Green apples.

 

Stiles’ groin had contracted sharply when he realised that Derek’s eyes were flickering back and forth between his eyes and his mouth.  The shimmering green had disappeared as his pupils expanded and Stiles mouth was running on autopilot while he stared back trying to hide his growing arousal.  Seriously disappointed when Derek lets him go, his fingertips had burned when he grabbed Derek’s jacket and they brushed against the cotton of his shirt.  He’d ducked instinctively when the werewolf thrust his head down towards him, wonders now what would’ve happened if he’d stood his ground, let their heads come together.

 

He didn’t go to school.  Didn’t stay at home either.  He found himself retracing his past, didn’t even know he was doing it until he found himself standing in front of the burnt out remains of the Hale Family home.

 

The woods.  The first place he ever saw Derek Hale, when he and Scott had been looking for Scott’s asthma inhaler.  That moment is etched forever in his memory, the wolf coming upon the two of them.  In hindsight, he recognises that Derek looked so young and...and fresh at that time, not like the drawn and care-worn man he knows now. 

 

He’d barely been able to look at him, he was so beautiful and Stiles hadn’t known what to do with that acknowledgement of another male’s appeal to his senses.  His eyes had darted every which way trying not to gape and he’d been so twitchy, like he’d not taken his Adderall that morning, all he could do was run a hand over the back of his neck and through his hair to hide his shaking hands.  As far as he’d been aware, right up to that second he’d never considered himself as being anything other than heterosexual.  The fluttering butterflies in the pit of his stomach had decidedly argued that belief.

 

It was right here.  Right on this very spot he remembers confronting the other man in the Sheriff’s vehicle when Derek had been arrested.  That was a guilt that he would always carry, that his accusations of murder against him had led to that. That it was for the murder of his own sister was something he would never ever forgive himself for, particularly when he's seen how gentle he can be with Cora.

 

Even with a metal barrier between them Stiles had felt how dangerous the other man was to his well-being, told himself that the way his heart pounded in his chest was from fear not in reaction to the way he’d leant forward and Stiles had seen those beautiful eyes up close for the first time.  The myriad colours within the base colour of green shimmered as he’d drawn his gaze all over Stiles’ face, lingering on his eyes and then his mouth.  The blood had thundered in Stiles' ears and all he’d been able to hear was Derek saying ‘...trust me...’  He’d wanted to so badly.

 

Each place on his pilgrimage stirs memories and feelings in his heart and mind until he feels like he can’t tell where he is in time, then or now.  They are all so vivid, like he’s somehow done a ‘Marty McFLy’ and gone back in time to relive them exactly.  When he’s parked down the street from Deaton’s Veterinary Clinic he starts to worry that maybe he’s losing his mind.  Why else would he be here like some stalker watching a building?

 

Funnily enough, just seeing the front door drags out the memory of a dying Derek seeking help within its walls rather than Stiles’ own immersion in an ice bath.  Derek had been so close to death that chill fingers skitter down Stiles’ spine at the vision in his head.  A beautiful man writhing on the floor poisoned with wolfsbane, more specifically Nordic Blue Monkshood, struggling to survive.

 

As it became apparent that Derek was fighting the poison, his hips bucking spasmodically Stiles mouth had become drier more desiccated than any desert.  Licking his lips, Stiles hadn’t been able to control his jubilation when he realised that Derek was going to live.  He will always be eternally grateful to Scott for being able to get there in time to give Derek the bullet-shaped antidote, just as he will never be able to look at a surgical saw ever again without wanting to puke.

 

He’s driving before he realises that he’s even started the jeep up.  Drives past the school and the gym where the indoor pool is, feels instantly exhausted when he remembers the two hour struggle he’d had to keep his and Derek’s heads above water after the Kanima attacked them.  He’d never even considered letting him go, if they’d gone under it would’ve been together.  He thinks that maybe this is when Derek started to regard him differently even though he tried to tell him that they don’t trust each other.  Old habits are hard to break and Derek had been fighting to retain his and that meant trust no one.

 

He even risks driving past the Sheriff’s station where his Dad’s pulling a double shift.  He knows that his Dad will crash on the couch in his office for a couple of hours between them.  The Department’s been hit with a number of losses...deaths over the past couple of years and his Dad’s been struggling to recruit any applicants.  Word has gotten around in the law enforcement world about how weird and unlucky Beacon Hills is for cops.  So for today and tonight at the very least, Stiles won’t have to explain his whereabouts.  Just sends his Dad a few texts during the course of the day as he normally would letting him know he’s okay, that he’ll be hanging with Scott after school.

 

The station house had witnessed the two of them paralysed by the Kanima venom and this was where he’d finally felt his body pressed against Derek’s hard muscled one.  It was heaven and hell, finally being so close to him and then knowing that Derek couldn’t wait to get away from him.  He’d tried to absorb as much of the sensation of being close to him that he possibly could, which wasn’t easy with Kanima venom playing havoc on his nervous system.

 

The cocky look on Derek’s face after he’d dominated Isaac into submission was one that played a huge part in many of the fantasies that Stiles dreamed about after that point.  The look and the way he said “I’m the Alpha” made him rethink his own sexual identity and he discovered that he had a decided tendency to fantasize with himself in, what even made him blush now to think of it....a submissive role.  Couldn’t imagine it with anyone else.  Couldn’t imagine being on his knees before anyone else, only Derek.

 

Inevitably he found himself drawn to the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.  There were so many people moving around the building and grounds so Stiles didn’t hesitate to walk through the Ambulance Bays where he remembered that moment when he and Derek had put a seriously ill Cora into the back of an ambulance.  Stiles had instinctively reached out and brushed his hand down the other man’s corded forearm wanting to touch him, wanting to drag him into the vehicle with him and just get the hell away.  When Derek had looked at him prompted by that touch, there was fear and anxiety on his face and Stiles could almost believe it wasn’t just for Cora.  They’d all been in serious danger that night, it was just luck that no one had died.

 

Standing in front of the elevator doors that were all repaired now, Stiles wants to throw up.  It was here as he ran down the darkened corridor that night that he’d seen Derek sprawled on the floor of the elevator.  For a horrifying moment he’d thought the other man was dead.  The grief had nearly sent him spiralling down onto the floor to wrap his arms around himself and keen wildly like a wolf in mourning.  When he’d calmed down and gotten closer he’d realised that Derek was simply unconscious and the relief had pulsed through him, energizing him enough to keep going and look for Scott.

 

After the metaphorical kick in the balls he’d gotten from his best friend who had gone with Deucalion, Stiles had returned to where Derek was still unconscious.  Waking an unconscious werewolf was never easy.  He’d called his name, shaken him by the shoulders and resorted to slapping him increasingly harder as Derek seemed to be on the verge of waking his eyes opening and closing rapidly.  Stiles had been about to resort to a punch when Derek was suddenly back and holding his forearm to stop his fist falling and connecting with his face. 

 

Crouched above him, they’d looked into each other’s eyes and after that initial ‘what the fuck’ moment, for a second that felt like an eternity Stiles had asked the unspoken question ‘I trust you...do you trust me?’ and Derek’s had answered ‘yes’.  Helping him to sit up their hands clasped, Stiles hadn’t been able to control the impulse to use his other hand to gently rub Derek’s arm and shoulder in comfort when he asked about Cora.

 

Now here he stands in Derek’s loft the place where Boyd died, pierced on Derek’s claws.  When he and Cora had burst through the doors and witnessed the scene before them, he’d not hesitated to go to the Alpha who was hunched over on his knees in a pool of water, his face a picture of agonized devastation.  He’d desperately wanted to wrap his arms around him, but he’d been paralysed not knowing if his touch would be welcome to the grief-stricken wolf.  So he’d simply placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder and squeezed tight, letting him feel...letting him know that he wasn’t alone.

 

If he looked back over his shoulder he knows he would see Derek at the long oak table planning their break and enter of the bank, Derek sitting on the lower steps of the spiral staircase rolling his eyes at Stiles in faux annoyance at something he’s said because over time he’s gotten used to Stiles’ runaway mouth or hunched over the table sitting on a wooden stool reading a massive tome.  Or simply Derek looking out of the large windows watching the rain, a look on his face that Stiles had never been able to interpret even though it was directed at him too many times for him to number. 

 

Stiles can see his reflection in the glass and standing just behind him is Derek, another memory.  Stiles puts his hand out and rests it on the broad chest of the reflection, likes how the glass feels cold beneath his palm.  Derek drops his head and closes his eyes for a heartbeat and when he raises and opens them his eyes are glowing blue and his lips are moving while his hand reaches out towards Stiles.

 

“Stiles.”  It’s a hoarse whisper and Stiles can feel the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end and a shudder racks through him as he feels a hand rest right at the join of his neck to his shoulder.  It’s hot and heavy and it’s real. 

 

It’s real.

 

Derek slides his hand from his shoulder to wrap around and across his collarbones, the weight of his forearm on his chest is a pleasure that Stiles never thought to experience.  He trembles violently when he feels Derek’s other hand grip his hip bone before sliding across his flat belly.  Derek tugs slightly and Stiles is wrapped in Derek’s strong muscular arms and his back and ass is pressed tight into the other man’s solid broad chest and the cradle of his pelvis.  His breath hitches and a sob hiccups out of him uncontrollably.

 

‘Stiles.”  He says again, goes to pull away and Stiles can’t let that happen and grabs his arms, keeping them in place, his hands pushing them hard against his body.  He wants to feel that weight and strength always, wants them to bruise him make him ache deep down to the bone.

 

“No. Don’t let go.”  He begs and he looks at their reflection and sees Derek jerkily nod his head.  Tilting his head to one side he rests it against the crook of Derek’s elbow where it rests on his shoulder.  It exposes the long line of his neck and in the window he can see the flash of blue from Derek’s eyes and it’s the other man’s turn for his breath to hitch.

 

“Stiles.”  Derek chokes out his name once again, before his mouth presses a soft open kiss to the cord of tendon that’s stretched before him.  It’s hot and moist and Stiles shudders, his body seemingly no longer under his control.  His hand that had been resting on the muscled forearm that’s wrapped around his waist, flies up to grab the back of Derek’s head, fingers threading through his soft thick hair.

 

“Please...harder...make me feel it.”  Stiles doesn’t recognise the broken harsh voice that emerges from his mouth, but that’s okay ‘coz when he hears Derek’s voice, his sounds worse like he’s being strangled.

 

“God...yes.”  Derek surges forward until he’s got Stiles pinned between the cool glass and the scorching heat of his heavy body.  Stiles is sure that somewhere, somehow during the course of the day he must have died and not realised it because he’s somehow ended up in heaven.  He never wants to lose this feeling.

 

Derek’s lips are sucking on his skin, his teeth are nibbling his flesh and his mouth is biting and nipping at his earlobe.  Stiles tugs on Derek’s hair in unspoken encouragement...more, harder, wetter.  Their mingled groans turn him on even more and Stiles’ cock is throbbing where it’s trapped in his pants and pressed against the glass.  He starts to rock his hips the pressure against his cock is good but it’s the feel of a huge heavy rod grinding into his ass that makes him cry out even louder.

 

“Derek...Derek...love you...I love you.”  His heart is bursting with the feelings that have been held back for so long and there’s no holding back now.  The darkness recedes in him so rapidly that he feels light headed, he can still sense it but it’s the tiniest fraction of what had been trying to swallow his soul, to devour him whole.  Has that been the problem he wonders?  He’s been denying and holding back everything he felt for the werewolf and now it’s free and Stiles’ realises that of course, love and light is the natural enemy of hate and darkness.  It's so simple and it makes him feel like an idiot.

 

Derek steps back, his arms releasing him, and Stiles panics and looks hesitantly over his shoulder, his body already missing the warmth and weight of the other man.

 

Derek reaches out with his big warm hand and grabs hold of Stiles’ shoulder and gently turns him around to face him.  The moonlight floods over them both, their faces are exposed, nowhere to hide as they stare at each other for the longest time.

 

Derek nods his head as though he’s come to some decision.  The blue has gone and it’s only those gorgeous kaleidoscope coloured eyes that look into his searchingly.  His hands reach up and cup either side of Stiles’ jaw and tilt his head slightly.  Stiles is amazed to realise that they are trembling wildly against his skin.

 

“I missed you so much, from the moment we left.”  Derek’s voice isn’t steady.  “I didn’t know why.  It took me 3 months to work it out.”

 

Derek shakes his head almost in disbelief at what he’s saying.  Stiles can sympathize.  Derek’s never been one to reveal what he’s thinking what he’s feeling, that he’s revealing them to Stiles twists his guts into knots knowing what he wants to hear the other man say.

 

“I was so lonely.”  Derek looks down towards the floor like there’s something of particular interest down there besides three months worth of dust.

 

“Yeah...no pack...it would be.”  Stiles’ heart aches fiercely in his chest, beating so strong, he doesn’t want to presume anything.  Not when he knows that Derek’s heart has been shattered and bruised, black and blue for so long.  He reaches up and bracelets Derek’s wrists with his fingers.

 

“No.” Derek raises his eyes to look back into Stiles’ and he could swear that he hears the wolf swallow loudly before he licks his lips and says shakily.  “I’m only lonely for you.”

 

He lowers his head, hands still cupping Stiles jaw.  Whatever, he sees on Stiles’ face makes him draw his breath in sharply.  His lips are only a breath apart from Stiles.

 

“I love you Stiles.”  Then his mouth is on Stiles and this is their first kiss and it’s soft, sweet and forever and everything that Stiles ever dreamed of.


End file.
